The Sinner
by Cat Grey
Summary: Can a sixteen year old girl save the world? Demons would stop her and a bizarre fundamentalist sect is doing its best to bring in the anti-Christ. Hope you all enjoy this work in progress : )


"Forgive me Father for I have sinned and it's been six months since my last confession…."

Father James Davenport heard the words on some level but was still reeling in horror at the previous occupants' lisping gleeful story that had slithered through the confessional screen like vaporous poison. Shaking his head did nothing to clear the soul darkening mist that seemed to surround him. He felt suffocated, gasping as if not only his faith had departed but left the booth nearly airless. His chest grew tight. His ribs would not expand and the roaring in his ears was growing louder. He was drowning.

The voice grew sharp and urgent, "Father, please you _must _hear me."

Again he shook his head. Taking a deep rasping breath he made the sign of the cross and stiffened his spine. Without warning a small white hand slapped hard against the wooden confessional screen startling him into a full body shudder. He looked at the dark profile on the other side. Tangled hair awash on a delicate neck, the left arm outstretched with the fingers grasping and shuddering on the wooden mesh, his eyes could not make out the face but the fingers were of a child.

A desperate whisper came through a mouth he could not see. Words he could not hear through the roaring in his head filtered into the closet like space. He could not take his eyes off the grasping flexing hand that appeared to have a life of its own as the child's head hung motionless. The body in repose as if all life had been given to the hand that pulled and plucked at screen, while the priest slowly leaned in trying to hear.

Heaving a sigh and feeling the shame that he had not given this poor soul his full attention he murmured, "I'm so sorry, please if you will, begin again. I'm afraid I did not hear you."

A young woman's voice, lilting and soft trickled into the candlelit space, "Fifteen minutes ago I killed a man" she sighed. "And yeah, I know it's wrong but the problem is…" Another deep sigh then the fingers dug in and went still. "Well ok, here it goes. You see I know killing is a sin. I mean everybody knows that. It's not like it's a news flash or nothing but what really scares me is that I kind of liked it. I got a wicked sense of um…I guess I should say satisfaction." The voice rose up in a questioning tone as if she was unsure of herself. Then he heard a gasp as if she was choking off a sob of fear. "Father….please help me cause I think something is really wrong with me. Something wicked bad and it's getting worse. "

Father Davenport cocked his head well aware that this was not right. His ears had deceived him. His mind was still locked onto the monster that came before. Somehow he had cast this poor child into his own misery giving his tortured mind another painful spike. He heard a moan from the other side and she whispered, "Something is happening. We are not alone and I…" She broke off and he could see her slowly shaking her head. He was transfixed by the fingers which were pressed so hard the blood flow had been interrupted leaving whitish blue tips like fat maggots hanging onto the screen. A whistling sound came as she hissed through her teeth like someone is pain. Then a deep low woman's voice belted through the air, "Father bad things are coming; you had better get ready."

Ok, he knew this was crazy. This was some new flavor of panic created by his own mind. He just needed to get a grip. Scrunching his eyes shut for the briefest moment he recalled the last so called penitent man that graced his presence and caused him such agony. He could not break the seal of the confessional for that would damn him yet the knowledge he now had was testing his resolve; his very belief in the church doctrine. The man who took such delight in blasting James soul with his past adventures and nearly cackling with joy at what he would do tonight caused a gut twisting nausea that had James feeling as if he was the last man alive on a doomed carnival ride in hell. He was screaming in space and nobody, not even God it seemed could hear him in his suffering. James was bound by his oaths to God and Church. He could not endanger his immortal soul by breaking the seal and reporting what he had been told to the police. Besides what could they do? He had no address. Not the names of the slaughtered or even that of the killer, worst of all no information on the children that would die tonight; only the fact that the oldest was under ten. All he had was the bare bones facts of the crimes and in the very near future more would take place so sickening he knew the nightmares would come, even darker than those that terrified him nearly every night. He would wake with the screams choking him as he bolted up covered in his own sweat stinking of fear. Hands clenched into fisted balls tearing at the sheets. Eyes round in the dark, heart pounding with the horror still gripping him as he tried desperately to cling to his sanity. They said it was post traumatic stress disorder but he felt it was something bigger, something evil was pushing at him. Testing him for weakness, seeking a way in and every night he fought it. But lately it was becoming too much and the whiskey didn't always help. No matter how much he drank he couldn't always escape the demons in his sleep.

The question remained; how could he damn himself and those around him if the sacrifice meant nothing? If he couldn't save himself how could he save anyone else? A broken sob drew his attention back to the person on the other side of the screen. His eyes strained to make out the details that remained hidden from view by the dim light.

Then the face came into focus as she lifted her head and turned towards him. A teenager with dark hair gazed worriedly into his eyes. "My child it is a sin to tell a lie," he whispered back with little hope that she would retract her previous statement given the way the world seemed to have gone to hell in the past ten years.

"No, Father you don't understand," her lips quirked into an odd sad smile as her voice slipped back into that of a young girl. "I'm not lying and well…I think that you should know…."

He waited for the rest but she seemed frozen for a moment as if she was gathering strength for whatever would come next. Yet what he expected or perhaps hoped for was not what came. She pressed close against the screen so that he was looking into her gentle hazel eyes smudged with dark circles of exhaustion.

The ringing deep voice came again, decades older than the lips that parted and said, "It's not that I killed him that bothers me but the fact that I didn't get to him sooner." She stared at him hard with a flat empty expression as if willing him to see something that simply wasn't there. Her eyes locked onto him with an intensity that was disturbing. It was a trick of the light. Mental illness, he knew it. He felt it. His mind was lashing out showing him things that were untrue. But he felt his chest constrict, the breath caught tight in his throat and he pushed off his seat with shaking hands to lean his face against the screen. Staring at her he saw her black pupils grow light until a radiant ice blue light seemed to pulse from inside.

Then it seemed as if the world had shifted for James. He refused to believe for one shaky moment he was having a complete breakdown. He couldn't bear another second of this nonsense. He would prove to himself that this was nothing but a figment of his tortured mind. Crashing out of the booth he found himself facing a young girl in jeans, a plain white tee shirt, dusty sneakers and a grey zippered hoodie. Dark bangs covered her eyes as she blew the air out of her face. In face and form she was completely unremarkable; a typical teenage girl. Shaking his hand in her face he was fully prepared to demand she tell him the truth but she beat him to it. "Father the dead man was going to torture and kill small innocent kids. All the information for the location is on him. Everything the police need to know is written down on a piece of paper in his left front pocket. Others will be there tonight while many more will watch online." The words began to tumble out of her faster and faster while James struggled to contain his shock and disgust that anyone would fabricate such a story no matter what the reason. When it appeared she was done she turned on sneakers that gave off a loud squeeking shriek and started hurridly striding away. James stood rooted to the ground for seconds before giving chase. His leather soles slapping against the stone floor of the church aisle echoed off the silent stone faces of saints looking down as he ran past. Reaching out he felt his fingers latch onto the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Jerking to a halt he spun her around. "How dare you!" he roared at her. His anger causing him to forget there were others sitting in the pews between services silently contemplating whatever it was that had brought them there.

The eyes glowed in a brief flash and white teeth laughed up at him, "Father you have no idea just how much I have dared to be here." She shook her arm to free herself but he held on and in a desperate voice he said, "I can offer you a number of places that provide free help. Please you need help. Don't…"

She cut him off, "Father, do what I asked and that is help enough for now." Then she looked down with a harsh gaze on his hand that still had tight grip on her sleeve. "I've much to do. I'm not supposed to be here so if you don't mind." She spun on her heel yanking her arm free and loped off to the exit. A spill of winter light through the door and she was gone.

**Detective Elliot Harris** looked down at the evidence bag in his hand then glanced at the body bag being placed into the meat wagon. "Well this is strange." He glanced once at the worried priest and continued on, "We have this note, very helpful it is but I can't help but wonder how it is that the security cameras chose today to blink out." He turned slowly towards Father Davenport, "Any ideas on how all this happened?" James blinked and said, "No, it's just like I told you."

"So, hmm as you said, this guy comes in makes a disgusting confession…" he trailed off leaving an opening that James jumped into.

"Yes" James said, "He was first then the girl and then I dialed 911; just like I said."

Elliot let his gaze take in the dumpster that the body had been leaning up against in a slumped sitting position until the medics had carted it off. He noted the cameras in place behind the church lot then his eyes flicked to the gathering of ravens that continued to arrive and roost on the church roof. A chilling shiver ran through him for the birds were oddly silent. Wings fluttered, feathers rustled and dark shiny eyes watched but not a sound passed their beaks. Shaking off his unease he turned and stared into the priests eyes, "Yet this girl, a young girl according to you somehow managed to break his neck so hard, so _efficiently_ that his chin was nearly resting on his back?" His voice was gentle but the doubt was evident as he pointed out, "The man's ID says he was over six feet and you say the girl couldn't have been more than 5 and a-half feet tall. So tell me Father-just how do you think this happened?"

James shrugged and wondered for a moment if he should and then decided the words had been outside the confessional so perhaps it was alright, "She said something bad was coming." Wringing his hands he worried the rosary beads that ceaselessly ran through his fingers as he sought solace in motion and mindless prayer.

"Did she give you anything more- any details?"

"No," James shook his head, "Just that and the fact that she was scared of something but she never said what."

Elliot sighed deeply, coughed when his chest tightened and again told himself he needed to quit smoking. Between his bad habit and the job stress he'd die young if he didn't knock it off. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Stabbing the button he listened and slowly his face changed. His jaw hardened and his eyes grew flat staring off into middle distance. "Right-got it- address; yeah I'm gonna head that way now." Father James watched the detective stomp away and trailed him wondering what he should do next. Hearing the footsteps behind him Elliot turned and mumbled around a cigarette he was trying to light, "Father, stay here. I'll have more questions later." Blowing out a plume of smoke he cast an uneasy glance upwards. More dark birds had arrived. "I would suggest you go inside," nodding his head once to the roof tops. James followed and for the first time noticed the massing of birds. Crossing himself he hurried back into the church without another word.


End file.
